The Arizona sentinel., 1887-06-11
NUMBER 28.

of the front door of house, and an- other in a decayed cavity in large fruit tree.
 After firm foundation of mud is laid, almost any thing soft will do to help out the walls of the nest, such as pieces of cloth, string. or newspaper. Four or five light-blue eggs are laid, and fortnight later the delicate sky colored shells have vanished. leaving in their places a cluster of yellow, gap ing mouths.
 Now commences the real labor of a robins life; labor such as few would ever guess. Mir. Samuels tells us, in his interesting book about birds, that young robin, kept in a cage by friend of his. ate each day an amount of food equal to one third of its own weight. which would be about sixty pounds of meat for man. When it was about three weeks old, it ate sixty-eight angle worms in single day, and wanted more! Think of the exertiOns required of thefather and mother to earn an honest living for four or five of these hungry little fellowsi
 Robins are very glad to have peck at nice ripe fruit now and then-look out for your cherries! But, after all, they live almost entirely on grubs and insects. If you want to know what would happen should they all be shot or driven away, read Longfellow's Birds of Killingworth.
 It is a curious fact that young robins have pretty, mottled breasts, turning to ruddy orange as they grow older. When about four weeks old. they find home too small for them. They perch on the edge of the nest; their mother fiutters to and fro before them, and shows them that flying is very easy matter-if you only know how! At lart the dumpy little things take cour- age, and, with much trembling and beating of heart they launch their small feathered boats upon the great air-ocean. How deliciousi It bears them up! They are in frenzy of de- light, and at the top peg of self-respect. as they cling awkwardly to the messy apple bough at least a dozen feet from home. How small the nest looks nowi Who wants to go back? It requires little urging for the second voyage.
 But night comes on. his very dark. Great, cold drops of rain come batter ing down on the frightened brown backs of four young robins, who wish very much that they were at home.
 Suddenly their timid chirping ceases; they are quiet, and know they are safe. The dear, watchful mother has never lost sight of them, and now is at their side She brings them food. she preens their wet, uncomfortable feathers. she hovers over them with warm, protect ing wings, and twitters softly to them in that sweet undertone of love that all mothers know so well. So the little ones are comforted, and, head under wing, fall asleep.
 Peacefully and happily the long summer days pass by. Sometimes. but not often, there is still another nest ful of children to feed and care for.
 In city and country, from Greenland to Florida, the cheerful whistle of the robin is heard. The fruit ripens in the orchard and the nights grow cold Some morning in early November the sparkling white frost tells our cheery little neighbor that he must move to his winter quarters. The warm, sun ny slopes of the South. the pleasant groves of Mexico and Guatemala. are waiting for him. By the tenth of the month there are only few robins left in the Middle States and New England sturdy fellows who have wrapped their feathers about their ears, and, choosing the deepest evergreen thick cts for their home, will stay all winter. -Willis B. Allen. in CbrtStiGR Union.